A Marching Band, Walking
I saw a Marching band, walking
Walking across St Andrew’s Square
Heads bowed into the North Sea wind
Instruments sheathed and protected
Drums dragged behind on reluctant wheels,
Save for the Sousaphone,
Which wrapped its vibrant coils around
A fat man with no hiding place.
Up front the conductor led the way
His umbrella holding a high note
The bedraggled ensemble stumbling into step
Following his direction – if not his enthusiasm.
Yet strip off the dull jackets
Release the brass and drums
Let them join in lines of hope
Break out the uniforms
Share their music
Let the trumpets call
Just let them safely cross the road
Without losing the fat man
And his Sousaphone.